


Quiet Neighbors

by lesbomancy



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 11:36:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6077892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbomancy/pseuds/lesbomancy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another old-as-balls work I barely remember making, backstory and fluff to my SW:TOR days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quiet Neighbors

Sector 2, District B16, Level 4081, Block 39  
  
\- The Ghost Who Smiled. -  
  
Charon Uell was one of those old-time bad guys with honor and morals which made him almost one of the good guys. Block 39, a maze of rusty containers, sharp-boned apartments looming up from the gun metal grey of the artificial ground. On a night like this you couldn’t help but think of the dark army of drug-addled dead men who followed him in line when he went out to work after the planet went from it’s sickly green skies to those much more accommodating for his kind of crime. 

 

Everyone has their monsters, and while Charon fought for himself to be different than a Hutt with anger management issues he ended up attracting the worst kind. A few of his guys kidnapped people and sold their organs here, some embellished money there– in the end he made enough ‘examples’ of his own gang that he was seen as a murderer who wouldn’t take anything but what was ordered. He attracted that mythological beast which protected it’s turf with as much zeal as his hooligans protected his non-lethal spine racquet.

  
The minotaur that lurked in this labyrinth was one that Charon hadn’t seen in the entire time that he lived there, one which had kept eyes on him since his group of seedy lackeys set up shop in two apartments which were formerly labeled as 'for rent.’ No real estate agent would be collecting on rent, nor would anyone rat that they were squatting illegally and messily to Charon as he was a world away and above in some fancy casino wasting credits on cheap booze, girls, and sucking off the tit of luxury.  
  
The minotaur, Norredi Anlon Dekk, was a fresh arrival by the neighborhood’s standards. He moved in with his girlfriend, a woman who wasn’t the brightest or the dumbest yet managed to sink her teeth into Dekk and keep him interested. He knew how to blend in, but that didn’t save him from being the only human in the neighborhood; it made him the outcast, the newcomer who looked like he bled credits and took as much care of his hair as a swoop jockey did of his bike.  
  
Neighborly attitudes and friendly smiles are an odd thing when they’re presented. It’s like a first contact crew trying to discern if an alien is friend or foe. The little Twi'lek girl which Dekk caught watering Salin’s plants was in his view, her nervous smile that of 'please don’t molest me’ as she backed up the small set of stairs which led to her own apartment.  
  
Neighborly attitudes and friendly smiles. Not important to Norredi– but kids? They were important. Children were always important, and one of the few on his list of things to never harm. His arm reached out open window, several bars of candy presented to her as payment along with his awkward, unpracticed smile. The smile won the girl over, her own smile that of an innocent girl who appreciated a job to do and the kind gesture of payment for a job well done.  
  
It wasn’t the only thing she’d have done, either; the roughly pruned plants were clearly her work. Bad, but better than nothing and it did happen to keep these green little potted 'pets’ alive enough to be watered and pruned again in the future.  
  
“ _Hi, neighbor!_ ” she all but screamed in excitement at Norredi.  
  
“ _Hello,_ ” Norredi responded. “ _What’s your name?_ ”  
  
“ _I’m Drea! I take care of Miss Ra'Vool’s plants because they die if I don’t rememmur._ ” For a Twi'lek– a species soured to Norredi by past experiences– she was adorable. Everything about her denoted genuine kindness, so it was only fitting that he return the favor.  
  
“ _I can tell. She barely makes the bin when throwing out garbage,_ ” Norri smiled, Drea giggling at the truth in the statement. His free hand was already printing something out, his top quality equipment burning something onto a fresh datapad. The hard drive of it was hot to the touch by the time it was over, a truly serious data transfer.  
  
Yet suddenly the datapad was hanging out the window towards the girl. “ _This is a gift for all your hard work. You come around every day, and she forgot you might want this._ ”  
  
One look at the device and the girl let out a happy gasp. The blank datapad was now riddled with how-to videos and an encyclopedia of child-friendly knowledge and teachings involving botany, specifically the care of them. There wasn’t a documented species in there which Dekk didn’t manage to cram in with one hand.  
  
After the screech-like torrent of 'thank yous’ had subsided, Norredi nodded his head and let her be on her way, Drea’s bare feet making bombs falling seem like a rather quiet event until she got inside her apartment.  
  
Maybe, Norredi thought, it was time for some spring cleaning on Nar Shaddaa.  
  
  
  
\- Electronic Actions of a Dismantled Synapse. -  
  
//task:search//  
//roving…//  
//task:acquired//  
//optics:engaged//  
  
The little mouse droid’s optic dome scans the area of the two apartments which Charon Uell’s gang has been using as a den for their less than stellar activities. Several are doing spice on the porch-like area while another goads a Twi'lek boy with the flipping off of several unheard obscenities. The boy’s little sister runs off crying and a large, older Weequay man gets into the mix to prevent any further activities. He’s summarily beaten on the back of his head.  
  
//optics^thump//  
//location:CharonBase39//  
//sending:HOME//  
//sending…//  
//sending..//  
//sent:HOME//  
//transmission:HOME//  
//transmission:ORDER//  
//ORDER:search^destroy//  
//search^destroy:CharonBase39Spice//  
//vidfeed:CharonBase39//  
  
The image of several gangsters beating the pulp out of the Weequay is recorded with surprising accuracy. The camera closes in with each blow, internal flash clicking at over twenty times a second. Each frame is in intimate detail. One of the gang members catches the droid, the heavily tattooed Duros breaking away from the group as it commenced with dragging the Weequay into the building.  
  
A foot appeared over the dome.  
  
Click, click, click.  
  
The foot descended, each frame showing the boot closer and closer.  
  
//feed^disabled//  
//reconnecting..//  
//reconnecting…//  
//reconnecting….//  
//host:lost//  
//connection^disabled//  
  
  
\- Pleasant interludes lead to pleasant friendships. -  
  
Taking the tram station home a few days before the incident, Norredi made friends with Fehn Cee, the quiet Weequay man who seemed genuinely honorable– even if he was the leader of a bunch of Weequay thugs who routinely beat the crap out of Imperial ambassadors. Not the nicest thing, but not the worst in Norredi’s book.  
  
Catching a glimpse of Norredi’s reading material, Fehn raised his voice as Norri held onto the railing handle from above.  
  
“ _Saj Null. Good philosopher. Warrior’s way and honor._ ”  
  
Norri turned to see his neighbor.  
  
“ _The art of war without death, a truly revolutionary concept amongst a culture accustomed to war. Respectful._ ” He nodded.  
  
Fehn almost laughed, but for a Weequay that might as well be uproarious laughter. “ _Yes. Even in war there can be civility._ ”  
  
“ _You live next door to me, correct?_ ”  
  
“ _Yes,_ ” Fehn nodded. Weequay were known for their brevity.  
  
“ _Your wife watches the Shala girls. I’ve seen your hound. Good, strong dog._ ”  
  
“ _His name is Bub. You helped my daughter, Gar-Hu. The gangs bother her no more._ ”  
  
Norredi nodded simply. “ _Just being a pleasant neighbor, Mister Cee._ ”  
  
“ _Dinner tonight with your wife. Eight. We repay your hospitality,_ ” he paused, wrinkled brow furrowing. “ _If only squatters were afraid of you. Might make neighborhood nice for once._ ”  
  
Dekk smiled, shrugging. He would go to dinner with the nice man– and bring Salin. She wasn’t his wife, but he wasn’t going to correct a Weequay.  
  
  
  
\- Decoy or destroyer -  
  
Narrik Ahlers was taking a stroll in Dekk’s neighborhood. Drunk. Painkillers. She couldn’t see, couldn’t feel– she was doing perfect. Numb and out of control, just the way she liked it on shore leave. Cilare was a catasrophe, more women she couldn’t protect, more operations with a higher body count than success rate.  
  
“Hero.”  
  
A fucking title that command gave her for tagging along and dealing with Jedi shit, watching her own people get killed. Nobody is a goddamn hero for sliding so far down the hole that you’re suddenly a god at what you do. Worthless phrases, worthless praise.  
  
“ _Captain._ ”  
  
Narrik whirled around, her arm shooting out to brace herself against the wall. She didn’t see anyone.. but she heard someone. She was already stained in her own vomit, from ther V-neck blouse to the hem of her skirt.  
  
“ _Captain Ahlers. Pay attention._ ”  
  
Some tight-ass in a suit was in front of her now. She straightened out, her hand resting inside her cardigan– fingers grabbing at a blaster pistol. “Yeah?”  
  
The outline of Norri Dekk’s face was now visible to her. She released her grasp on the pistol. “ _You were the navy fag on my hearing board. What the fuck d'ya want?_ ”  
  
“ _You want to stay in the gutter or do you want a real assignment with some real fighting?_ ”  
  
Narrik brightened. Fighting? A real assignment? She was going to be sent to Coruscant for Senate guard duty for the next year or so, bleeding boredom and slowly killing herself. This was Major Dekk, the uptight prig who nominated her for the fuckin’ medal. A mixed bag.  
  
“ _Yeah, whatcha offerin’?_ ”  
  
“ _Help me get rid of a gang and send a message. I’ll put you somewhere nice. Somewhere you can fight and do what you were meant to do, Ahlers._ ”  
  
A hazy, drunken nod was all she managed with a slurred 'Yeh, okay.’  
  
“ _Good. Let’s go, we’re running out of time. Follow my lead._ ” He started off towards the spot where the crumpled up wreck of a tiny mouse droid lay.  
  
She was hardly at her finest, but she’d make do. It wasn’t the first time she’d have to fight boozed and drugged up like a cheap whore. She drew her blaster pistol out and stumbled on her heels after Dekk, each wobbly step getting more steady as she saw a few hooligans on the porch area of where they were heading. Her hands rested on her ass, the pistol out of sight and snugly set against the ass of her skirt.  
  
“ _Gentlemen,_ ” Norredi spoke up, looking like a lost tourist. “ _I don’t mean to interrupt, b-but me and my wife here got, uh, REALLY lost. Do you know where the Hutta museum is?_ ”  
  
Both thugs got up, cursing in Huttese as they got into Norri’s face for even walking on their porch. Narrik didn’t understand it and Norredi played it off like he didn’t either; each shove was him meekly shrinking back like the frightened tourist we was pretending to be.  
  
“ _W-whoa! B-buddies, I, I don’t understand what you’re saying.. I just need directions.._ ”  
  
One of them got in her face, hovering over her like she was some kind of meat to be savored. She could tell what he meant with his words, even if the specifics were a jumbled mash-up of alien speak which she could understand no better than if it was a sock puppet acting as the lip synch. The thug, a Rodian, moved a hand to trail his disgusting green finger to brush her bangs out of her face.  
  
That spark sent her pistol butt right to his forehead. As he reeled back she hit him again.. and again. Norredi had done some super spy bullshit which disarmed the one harassing him and was already tying him up with twist cuffs while she kept kicking into the Rodian’s stomach.  
  
“ _GODLESS QUEER,_ ” she screamed internally. A wad of spit made it onto the Rodian’s now swollen forehead as Agent Dekk bound him as well.  
  
She stared at the door to the building, the shapes of it blurring and twisting around as other figures moved around her. She couldn’t tell if it was Dekk or one of his goons, but the bodies made themselves onto the flat bed of an air speeder truck.  
  
Then the door opened, Dekk motioning for her to go in first. The click-clack of her shoes going up the stairs was doing nothing for subtlety, but then again neither would her blaster pistol charged to full and set to kill.  
  
A squatter’s apartment was usually this dirty, but.. the sounds of beatings were coming from somewhere. Some of these assholes loved a good snuff film or two, usually going so far to film it themselves so they have a monopoly on the sadistic freak business.  
  
Dekk crawled in after her, his shadow moving like some sort of bug on the wall who was used to stinging quickly and flying away like every fucking fly swatter in the galaxy was ready to snap at his profile. Narrik quickly registered the stench of spice, the kind which she knew screwed up your insides and made you an addict– Norri looked at it in surprise, like these thugs weren’t the kind to deal in it or something.  
  
Yeah, he’d know about shit like that.  
  
Following the droplets of blood which were without a doubt those of Fehn Cee, Norredi came to the courtyard and pool entrance of the apartment. Narrik haphazardly slammed onto the adjacent side of the door and gave him a nod, her shaky fist slowly opening the door to expose the gang’s primary hang out place.  
  
Bottles, spice packets, and mattresses riddled the area. It was a den of vice, sin, and ecstasy which had stains of each gang member on any surface that could stain. The half-empty pool acted as a garbage disposal to them, the automatic cleaning system keeping the water bright and sparkly even as one of them was relieving himself into the crystal clear water.  
  
Fehn Cee was at the center of the room, followed around by five thugs who were urging for him to escape in both Basic and Huttese, the older gang leader staying entirety quiet as he took their beatings, his silence only frustrating the young violent thugs. Narrik had kicked her shoes off in the room before, the cold floor acting as both cover and the sense of where she was as she ducked behind some patio equipment with Norredi.  
  
What she didn’t know is that these thugs were harassing the entire neighborhood. They almost beat the mother of the Twi'lek family into a bloody pulp once she denied them a quick, inexpensive gang bang for half of her daily wages. That they were beating a community leader and an honorable man who Norredi had diner with and enjoyed talking of the Mandalorian way with.  
  
These assholes were smuggling spice and peddling cheap whores in the wrong district.  
  
Norredi appeared at the nape of Narrik’s neck, whispering a game plan. It consisted of 'shoot everything but the Weequay.’ Fair enough for her.  
  
The side light on her blaster pistol lit up as she peeked over the top and realized something: the pool was right underneath them. Even while drunk enough to puke and on enough painkillers to make her aim sloppier than a Hutt on festival weeks she managed to formulate a quick plan.  
  
Be the decoy or be the destroyer.  
  
She crouch-crawled back into the main room and got to a runner’s position. She looked to see where Norredi was and furrowed her brow. Where was that ghost-like mother fucker? He had the habit of disappearing from sight.. so maybe it was just the drugs and the booze.  
  
Focus, Narrik.  
  
Her bare feet pressed into the ground and sent her running, her skirt hiking up almost to the point where her panties were visible. Always a quick runner, she achieved a good enough speed to bring her pistol up and prepare a shot depending on where she remembered the thugs to be. She hoped her memory was good.  
  
A foot vaulted her up a patio chair and onto the railing, both legs flexing and extending, hurling her into the air. She dove towards the pool and the thugs, her pistol drawn and aimed as everything became a little bit slower. She was always a crack shot– three bursts from her pistol and she knocked out four of them. Her body hit the water.. and crashed.  
  
Drowning but not quite drowning she opened her eyes as she floated to the bottom of the water, surveying the sky and surroundings. There was some sort of muffled activity above, but all she saw was a Zeltron gang member pointing a blaster at her. She blinked back at him, made eye contact and prepared for him to fire. There wasn’t a death wish, simply the acceptance of being able to do nothing.  
  
The Zeltron’s shoulder turned, a fist landing in his throat. His pistol fell from his hand as he coughed and hacked, two more fists landing center mass in his torso. A sweeping kick was thrown into the mix and Norredi gently placed the choking Zeltron on his stomach and bound his wrists, eventually dragging the body away from the edge right as Narrik summoned the physical willpower to kick towards the surface.  
  
Her head emerged from the water, gasping for air as her arms weakly threw themselves onto the nearby ladder so that she could shakily pull herself out from the half-full apartment’s pool. Coughing, semi-delirious, and half-sober she looked around to see what she hit–… nothing. There weren’t any bodies, any sign of Dekk, or even the Weequay who was having a bad face day.  
  
Nobody was there. Blaster scarring, stains and mess were there.. but not the people. Everything was gone. She slowly walked over to a mattress and fell down face first, the bubbling of vomit in her stomach subsiding as soon as her eyes closed for a nap. The night would be forgotten to her, but not to Norredi Dekk. It might’ve helped that he didn’t wake up in a puddle of spittle and half-vomit.  
  
  
\- The Alderaanian Dream -  
  
Charon Uell leaned back on his couch as the screen in front of him played out an ad for Salky ChewChew BitBites, the most delicious and healthy BitBites by BiteCo. They breed strong teeth and a good coat, don’t you know? 'Course you don’t, because it’s BitCo! A muffled belch was let out and he laughed at the tiny animated Salky running around in circles trying to bite at it’s own feet.  
  
Earlier in the day a flatbed truck filled with some of his 'workers’ and half a ton of drugs was parked in front of his place, some holocom playing over the drug deal over and over to make sure that he’d see. Could’ve been forged, but that skinny dude with the slicked back hair made him reconsider.  
  
Making an enemy of a man capable of disarming seven of his top lieutenants was not something Charon cared to do– so they struck a deal. Charon stays away from Block 39 and doesn’t sell anything on the level and Norri… well, Norri would let him live happily as a drug pusher and arms dealer.  
  
What Charon didn’t know is that Norredi had tear gas explosives riddled throughout the gang banger’s house so that if he ever did happen to betray trust there would be many regretful tears before Norri Dekk showed up to break the man’s arm, most likely the one Charon used for spice snorting.  
  
Supplemented with a healthy donation towards a new Dekk Enterprises office a few blocks away from 39, Norri was rather happy with the deal. Happy enough to pay for the refurbishment of the squatter’s apartment and turn it into an activity center for youths and a gym for the older folks in the area. Cushty.  
  
An expanded pool, the large patio and a nice, fat outdoor kitchen for Norredi to cook in was the start of something great for the community. Everyone on the block ended up looking forward to the bi-monthly social events and while making sure that the Shala kid got cleaned up was another story, eventually everyone on the block got off well together and began living healthier, cleaner lifestyles due to the sense of pride in their area.  
  
Even that damned Neimoidian who ate half a hamburger and left every time. 93.8 seconds of socialization every two weeks were all he had in him.


End file.
